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About Milan

So, here’s the deal—brothels ain’t just sex dens, nah. They’re like theaters, man, stages where people play roles. You got your johns, your workers, all actin’ out some script. I remeber this one spot—Nevada, back in ‘98—called the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. Legal, loud, and proud. Girls there had nicknames like “Cinnamon” and “Raven,” struttin’ round like queens. Made me laugh, seein’ em work the room—smooth as hell. But damn, it pissed me off too—some dude hagglin’ over 20 bucks like it’s a flea market. Bro, she’s a person, not a damn rug!

Testimonials

So, I’m walkin’ down Corso Garibaldi, and it’s packed. People everywhere, chattin’, laughin’. I love this city, man. The vibe is electric. But then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and poops right on my shoulder! I’m like, “Really, dude? You couldn’t aim for the ground?” I swear, I’m cursed today.

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